


The Present

by BarqueBatch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Established Relationship, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, Multi, Shameless Smut, Slash, Steamy daydream put to paper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarqueBatch/pseuds/BarqueBatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets an unexpected Christmas surprise from Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Present

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end product of there being no magazines to read when I had to wait for my car to be serviced. Be gentle! It's my first foray into JohnLock! :)

“John…? I’m home!”

I glanced at my watch and frowned. He’d been out for some time. “Where’ve you been? I thought you’d be home before now.” I figured it was simply to get out of helping me clean the kitchen but he looked more pleased with himself than usual. It was an expression that never failed to make me a little nervous. “I’m glad I didn’t start dinner or you’d be eating Mrs. Hudson’s stew cold.”

“Forget dinner, John! I brought you a present.”

I tilted my head to the side in silent question but only for a moment. Sherlock swooped into the kitchen and plucked the carafe from my hands. He tossed it back into the sink and didn’t even blink when it shattered against the ceramic.

“Sherlock,” I sighed as he pulled me into the living room. Most people spend the largest portion of their earnings on their rent or their house payment. I’m quite sure ours goes toward the random objects that Sherlock routinely trashes, be they accidental or intentional. As usual, my consternation was completely lost on him. He scanned the room and quickly pointed me toward the couch.

"There! Sit there. It’s perfect.”

“What is?”

Of course rather than ever give a straight answer, he pushed my shoulders abruptly so I dropped heavily onto the couch. I shifted to straighten myself and noticed his overcoat was missing. His scarf as well. I looked to the desk chair but neither was there. He hadn’t hung them in the hallway because he’d used the coat stand to chin an intruder last week. Never buy Ikea if you can help it. Actually maybe it’s only a problem for us. Cheap composite wood doesn’t seem to live a long life in this flat. Then again, neither did the wall hook that preceded it. That fell by the wayside in a quest to prove a point to Lestrade. Actually it wasn’t so much a quest as a temper tantrum worthy of the brattiest two-year-old you’ve ever known. I’ve almost grown fond of his fits. Lestrade not so much.

“Ahhh I see your mind working overtime, John. Excellent..” The words almost purred from his throat, distracting me from my own feeble attempts at working out what he was up to.

“Sherlock, it’s only Christmas Eve. I thought we were going to wait until hell-o…” I blinked at the young woman that entered the room. The overcoat I’d just wondered about practically swallowed her and his scarf hung loosely from her neck. Her auburn curls were caught up in a decorative clasp and her green eyes peered back at me somewhat curiously from under thick, sooty lashes. Sherlock didn’t look at her though. Instead those intense pools of shifting color stared an unblinking hole right through me; devouring my reaction to our guest. “Who’s this?”

“I told you,” he smiled. “I brought you a present.”

A flittering in my stomach caused me to angle my gaze back at him, my tone hesitant as I played stupid. It wasn’t as much fun for him when I guessed things too quickly. Genius needs an audience afterall. “Uhhh you’ve hired a maid finally?”

“Maids are boring.” He made the comment so coyly I had to smile. I’d ribbed him enough about some of his favorite retorts that he knew it would amuse me to throw one out. Sherlock’s eyes never left mine as he held his hand out to the side. Our guest put her hand lightly in his and he guided her forward to stand before me. His hands reached for the coat lapels and he slid the fabric along her slender arms. As he pulled his overcoat slowly from her body, his scarf fell perfectly over her naked breasts. The fringe covered the rest of her nudity and I had to shift again on the couch to relieve a growing pinch in my groin.

“Oh,” was all I could manage. Both of them were staring me down but it was his eyes that had me short of breath. I never expected this of him. Sherlock was never one to play well with others, much less share what he perceived as his. And I was very much his. I’m quite sure he laid claim to me in his mind from day one and when Sherlock settles on something, he’s much like a steamroller flattening everything in his path until he gets his way. I didn’t stand a chance really.

Our guest, my _present_ , kneeled before me and began to unbutton my shirt. I couldn’t help but squirm under Sherlock’s intent stare. Those eyes could go from rapid blinking when his sarcasm or annoyance was spilling over to the most seductive, commanding, level gaze you could possibly imagine. I’ve never been able to break that stare and I’ve yet to see anyone else do so either. He held you there immobile until he either made his point or tired of you. I was so mesmerized that I was only half aware of my pants being pulled from my legs. My boots and trousers were already gone and I hadn’t even noticed. I watched her dutifully stand and move behind Sherlock to help him out of his own clothes. I narrowed my own eyes his direction. Maybe he was in the sharing mood but I wasn’t entirely sure that I was. The corner of his mouth twitched upward; the sharp smirk openly triumphant. Clearly it was the reaction he’d been waiting for from me. Silent confirmation that my present was only a temporary toy for us to enjoy; one with a definite expiration date. As much as he claimed me as his alone, I was even worse with him. He was my Sherlock and that was that.

My present returned to her spot before me and grazed her fingertips over the head of my cock. Her feathery touch with the sight of Sherlock standing over her in all his naked, ethereal beauty made my heart pound and my eyes droop. He remained motionless while she slowly took me into her mouth, his expression positively predatory. I wondered how this would play out. Would he even participate or just watch? I knew we wouldn’t take turns with her. It wasn’t his style at all. Anticipation of where he was leading me was making me teeter ever closer to release and he sensed this immediately. His hand went to her nape to stop her.

“Enough,” he ordered quietly. “The rest is mine.” She moved aside and climbed next to me on the couch. As Sherlock settled between my legs, she curled herself around me so that when he took me into his mouth, my head fell back against her breasts.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, my eyes closing as I focused on the soft warmth of his lips and tongue urging me on. He knew exactly how to touch me; how to finish me quickly or strand me along until he was ready to grant me the reward of my release. Tonight he was merciful and pulled a hard, fast orgasm from me that had me seeing spots. He lost not one drop of me before wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist. I loved that he could be both so elegant yet so crass at the same time. He rested his cheek to my thigh as I gradually regained my wits about me.

“What brought this on,” I asked him, my voice slightly hoarse as I reached out to caress his streaked curls. Nothing was monotone about Sherlock. Not his eyes nor his hair. Even his skin had its own unique, sun-deprived lustre.

“I know you still appreciate a beautiful woman… I wanted to try something new. I have something special in store.”

The first part of his answer gave me pause. “Sherlock, I’m not walking about with my tongue hanging out at the first sight of a woman. I don’t need that you know.”

“I know you don’t,” he responded quickly, reminding me of that first time we went to Angelo’s. It was only the crispness of his reply and that unfaltering stare though. His walls were up to me back then. They weren’t up to me now. It was rare that he truly shut me out these days, even when he was being hopelessly obtuse or childish.

“What are you up to then,” I prompted gently, fixing him with a direct stare of my own. His lips curved upward to return my smile and I knew he wouldn’t come right out and tell me. His eyes were too mischievous tonight to explain anything. I’d find out soon enough. He dragged his fingertips over my shaft and looked back up at me. When I jerked and began to respond again, his eyes shifted to my present. Obviously he’d made it perfectly clear what he expected of her because no words passed between them. She shifted me forward so she could move again then situated herself in front of me to straddle my lap. I watched Sherlock regain his feet behind her as she gently rubbed her breasts against me. She leaned forward, very nearly brushing her lips to mine before pulling back at the last second. It was an intentional tease that pleased Sherlock, his beautiful cat eyes narrowing with delight. Her lips found their place at my neck, again a deliberate move so that my view of my lover remained unobstructed. He leaned against her back and breathed against my mouth without actually touching me.

“Whatever else passes between us John,” he whispered, his deep voice hinging with lust, “regardless of how we choose to play or who we might include…” He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. “Your lips They’re mine. Mine alone. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

Of course I did. Foregone conclusion. He knew damn well he didn’t need to tell me that, but he also knew damn well that I still liked hearing him say it. The heat of his possessive declaration had my cock straining to be touched again; to be enveloped. I didn’t care by what so long as I could lock eyes with him and be completely lost in his spell. Sherlock smiled again and pulled back from me. His hands went to my present’s shoulders then slid seductively down her sides until they rested at her hips. Taking her cue from this, she wrapped her hand around my cock and placed me at her entrance. She released me and I shuddered as I felt Sherlock’s fingertips graze my cock just enough to guide me in. Her breath exploded hot against my neck. She was slick, but the tightness told me she wasn’t quite ready for my girth. She pressed her forehead to my neck and hissed softly. Sherlock’s hand again went to her nape; only a slight touch of his palm to her skin.

“No noise,” he scolded and she muffled her mouth in the crook of my neck. The authority he imposed over her set off a shiver across my body. I jerked inside her and I heard her fingers dig into the back of the couch. Time seemed to slow down then. The erotic nature of this encounter thickened the air around us and I caught Sherlock’s distinct scent in my lungs. My thrusts were leisurely and delicious as I imagined myself deep inside him while taking in every feature of his face. I couldn’t see what he did to her but she arched against my chest, her ass rearing back for him. The motion tore a low moan from my throat and Sherlock’s lashes fluttered in response. He caressed the side of my face then dragged his fingers along my jaw then down my chest. His knuckles brushed over my nipple and and my head fell back to the couch.

“Ah Sherlock,” I gasped, my hand closing over his upon her hip. “I’m… really close…”

“I know.”

His other hand dropped further, sliding between me and our guest. He pinched her there, just hard enough to set her off. She contracted tightly around me and I felt myself hanging in nothingness for a moment. I was right there but couldn’t quite let myself fall. Then I felt Sherlock enter her. She clutched at my shoulders, her chest heaving as she struggled to obey the order Sherlock gave her. I felt his cock nestle against mine with only the thinnest barrier between us and that was all it took. As I convulsed wildly inside her, Sherlock’s forehead pressed to mine; his hand now cradling my neck as I came. Although his hips remained still, I felt him twitching hard and knew he’d gotten off along with me. It thrilled me and I brought my hand up to give his hair a gentle tug. He exhaled loudly against my mouth but didn’t kiss me. We never did in front of anyone. Mrs Hudson knew about us but even she didn’t get to see that. Not ever. It wasn’t about being ashamed; we weren’t overt but we weren’t secretive either. That was simply private to us and too intimate for any kind of audience. He did trail his lips along my jaw though as he moved whisper against my ear.

“Merry Christmas, John.”


End file.
